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Kitra
=Kitra's Personality= Though pessimistic and ill-tempered, Kitra was loyal to those she considered friends. Kitra was very unstable emotionally, often wavering in her opinions when someone whom she trusted or admired attempted to influence her with their ideals. Kitra, when under too much strain, often launched into a nervous breakdown much to the frustration of those around her. Other Facts About Kitra: *Kitra's birthday was on December the 23rd; she is now deceased (see below). At the time of her death, she was a member of the Retribution of Arathor. *Kitra and her younger brother, Marris, both spoke with an accent. In OOC terms, her accent would have been considered to be of a more "Russian" dialect. *Kitra was the proprietor of the establishment known as the "Crimson Jewel" tavern which was located in Stormwind's Park District for the majority of its lifespan while Kitra operated it. Later, due to the frequent calamities that seemed to take place in the "Crimson," as its customers affectionately referred to it, Kitra finally came to the conclusion that the tavern must have been cursed, which subsequently led to the decision to relocate the tavern in Ironforge in hope that she and her friends could at last enjoy some measure of peace. Unfortunately, while everything did calm down to an extent, Kitra was still quite unhappy with the tavern's new location, which made her feel claustrophobic due to the fact that the great Dwarven city rests in the bowels of a mountain. *Much to her chagrin, Kitra often found herself heavily depending on her brother and friends for support in times of crisis. *Some of the first people Kitra came to call her "friends" after journeying to the kingdom of Stormwind included Antigone Veritas and Ravine Lunaletha. *Kitra loved the company of dwarves, surprisingly enough, because she claimed that they always made her laugh even when she was down. *Kitra often bickered with a young gnome girl named "Riely" but, in spite of this, it was obvious that she did, in fact, care about the child as if she were her little sister. =Kitra's Past= Twenty years prior to World of Warcraft "Why? Why can't I stay with her?" cried the female child, her arms flailing about as two attendants dragged her from her mother's bed chambers and into the sitting room beyond. Behind them, she could still hear her mother gasping and groaning, her obvious agony radiating throughout the house like a flickering lantern on a moonless night. What is wrong with you, Mommy? Closing the large, ornate oaken door behind her, a female attendant dropped to one knee and faced the child, their gazes meeting and intertwining. "Your mother is ill, Kitra," the woman spoke softly. "You must let her rest if you wish for her to recover." She then wagged her forefinger in the girl's face in an admonishing fashion, her voice growing stern. "And believe me, young lady, you will leave her be until I say otherwise." Kitra only glared at the woman, tears welling in the corners of her large, silvery eyes. "But Mommy needs me," she protested. "I must go to her!" Without another word, the attendant abruptly rose to her feet and strode from the room, leaving the now sobbing child alone. Despite the urge to follow the attendant, Kitra remained where she stood, paralyzed with fear. At three years of age, she was far too young to understand the complications of a pregnancy and definitely too young to understand the scandalous circumstances surrounding this particular pregnancy. The Aeldron household, while certainly not royalty, was still incredibly wealthy and quite well known to the citizens that inhabited this small portside town just west of Southshore. If word of her mother's infidelity was to ever spread, her family's name would be forever sullied. Agonizing minutes slowly turned into hours. More attendants streamed to and from her mother's room. They seemed too preoccupied with whatever was transpiring behind that door to be concerned about Kitra. Every so often she could hear her father's angry voice booming from the room. Although she could barely discern what he was saying, it seemed that his anger was directed at the attendants. Kitra was nearly asleep when she noticed a long shadow creeping across the sofa on which she sat. She glanced up at the man she knew only to well. "Daddy!" she cried joyfully, throwing her tiny arms around her father, waiting for him to scoop her up into his arms. But her father only remained still and trembling, as if frozen in place. "Daddy, what is wrong?" Kitra asked, looking up at her father. His normally composed demeanor had vanished, leaving only a shell of the man that Kitra knew as her father; the man who had fought bravely in the Second War; the man who claimed nothing could unnerve him. This frightened Kitra. What possibly could have upset her father so much? After a moment, her father stooped down, facing his young daughter, grasping her by the shoulders. Kitra could see the glint of tears in his eyes. "Kitra, I want you to be strong," he whispered. "No matter what happens, you are still my daughter." He suddenly clasped his right hand over his eyes, as if trying to regain his composure. "And remember," he said in a choked voice, "no matter what evil may be spoken of your mother, she was a good woman." Kitra could only stare at her father, wide-eyed, not able to comprehend the message that he was trying to convey. "Why would anyone say anything evil about Mommy?" she asked curiously. Without a word, her father scooped her into his arms then sank into a chair, placing her on his lap, as he would often do when he would read to her in the evenings. "Nevermind, darling," he whispered. "It is nothing..." Sixteen years prior to World of Warcraft "Marris, just STOP!" Kitra growled at her four-year-old brother who kept repeatedly splashing her as she waded into a cool stream on the edge of her father's estate. Why must I always babysit him, anyway? "But you are so funny when you're angry," the boy replied, laughing. "Well, now look what you've done," she groaned. "My clothes are ruined! I'll be punished for sure!" At this, a frown appeared on Marris' pale face. "I am sorry," he said genuinely. "I will tell them it was my fault," he offered. "Just forget it," Kitra said with a heavy sigh. "Maybe I'll dry off before then." As Marris happily went back to playing, Kitra couldn't help but think about the fact that no matter what went wrong, it was almost always Marris who was punished, even when it was truly Kitra's fault. Because of this fact, she would try to let him off the hook once in a while. Still, she couldn't help but wonder why her father acted as if he didn't care about Marris at all? He never paid the boy a drop of attention, the attention that was typical of most fathers. In fact, he was always trying to rid himself of Marris it seemed, whether by forcing Kitra to watch the child or by sending him to a nanny. Of course, Kitra wouldn't discover that her brother was indeed the child of a different father until many years later. But despite that fact, Kitra and her brother were very similar in appearance. Both possessed same dark hair and pale complexion that their mother bore. Five years prior to World of Warcraft Many things came to change for the Aeldron family over the years, and most people felt that either the family was simply the victim of much misfortune, or that perhaps they were even cursed or bewitched in some manner. Kitra's father had taken to drinking too much to soothe his never-ending depression and, in the end, it cost him his life when he took a tumble over a balcony nearly four years ago. His estate had been used to pay his many debts, leaving Kitra and Marris literally copperless. They were forced to work as laborers at the estates of various noble families to earn enough wages to buy food. Kitra, now a young woman of eighteen, was miserable. Many of the people who had once respected her and her family now simply turned up their noses at her now, or, even worse, they looked upon her with pity. If there was anything worse than being pitied, Kitra could not think of it. Sometimes she felt that death would be a much kinder fate, but she didn't have the resolve to take her own life. Besides, she couldn't leave Marris alone. At fifteen, he seemed very thin and sickly to her, and she had grown to be fiercely protective -perhaps overprotective- of her younger brother. In her own mind, she was the parent he had never had. Now there were rumors that another war was about to begin, and while at the opulent parties hosted by her affluent employers Kitra had listened to several soldiers proudly spin tales of the many battles they had fought over the years, many feared that this battle would be nothing to joke about. The Third War "Kitra, you must wake up!" came the frantic voice of Marris, which was rare indeed considering how composed the boy normally was. Despite the fact that Kitra silently realized that Marris had not a drop of her father's blood in his veins, she could count myriad similarities between the two. Kitra slowly rose into a seated position, groggily rubbing her eyes and grumbling simultaneously. She loathed being woken from a deep sleep, and Marris knew this only too well. What had gotten into him? she wondered. "What's this about?" she hissed. "You know I'm ex-" Her words instantly died on her lips and her throat seemed to become dry, her heart freezing in place as she witnessed fear in her brother's eyes. "W-what is it?" she asked nervously. Outside, the shouts of frightened villagers could be heard in the distance. A sinking feeling began to creep into her body. "Th-the entire village is in an uproar!" the shaken boy stammered. There is word of a plague spreading in the cities to the north," he continued, struggling to remain calm. "They say there is a chance it will spread here as well!" Kitra immediately went about packing what few possessions the siblings owned. She had no idea where they would go, but then again, could it be much worse than catching the plague? Still, it would take a few days before they would be prepared to leave, she knew. Seven days later As Kitra and Marris made their way through the village that evening, the wails and screams of those who had been stricken by the plague could be heard coming from many of the homes that littered the edges of the cobblestone streets. There were very few lanterns lit that evening as most of the populace had boarded themselves up inside of their homes. The sky was overcast that night, and as Kitra's eyes frantically searched the darkened sky for even the slightest trace of the soft, welcoming glow of the moon, she could not find it, which only amplified the already eerie atmosphere. Kitra slowly craned her neck to get a better look at Marris. His expression was emotionless, she noticed. "Are you..." she paused for a second. "Are you all right, Marris?" she asked in a low voice. He met her gaze. "I will be once you are safe." Kitra's expression contorted into a look of terror as another blood-curdling shriek rippled throughout the cool night air. She suddenly found herself grasping the hilt of the small sword she was carrying beneath her cloak. While she had never used one before, she hoped that she could defend herself if necessary. As they neared the village gates, they witnessed a group of guards attempting to subdue some strange, almost human-like creature. It bore a faint, greenish skin tone and wispy blond tassels dangled from its moldering flesh . The creature's eyes bulged in their sockets as a green maw of light pulsated within them. Kitra felt droplets of sweat beading upon her forehead as she noticed the regal, intricate gown the creature was garbed in. Something about the it looked familiar to Kitra. "In the name of the gods," Kitra whispered in disbelief. Marris only bowed his head. He seemed to sense what Kitra was about to say. She turned to Marris. "Tell me that isn't Lady Calaera!" she pleaded. Only silence. "Marris, no human should look like that! No human 'could' look like that!" "That is because she is not human," Marris replied quietly. "She had succumbed to the plague and was buried this morning. I fear that this is far worse than a simple illness." Kitra's throat went dry as she finally began to comprehend the gravity of the situation. Her thoughts seemed to drift from reality as the icy fingers of fear clawed at her mind. How can we possibly escape? Kitra only snapped back into reality when she heard more terrified shrieks in the distance. She looked up to see that there were now several of those sickly looking creatures, and they were slaughtering the villagers! The stench of death filled her nostrils. She watched in horror as these sickly looking things clawed and tore at the frightened humans. Shrill cries emanated from within them. For an instant, Kitra could have sworn that one of the creatures looked repulsed. But how could that be? She forced her eyes shut for a moment, and upon opening them again, any trace of humanity had vanished from the creature's face. Had she imagined it? She suddenly wanted to vomit. What if these monsters were actually aware of the fact that they were harming their friends? Kitra could think of no fate that was worse. She turned to ask Marris if he had noticed it too, but he was gone. She felt the incipient panic bubbling within her gut as she scanned the crowd for him, wondering where the heck he had run off to. She forced herself to slowly approach the maw of chaos that stood before her. If Marris was in there, she wouldn't leave him to a certain death. She jumped as she felt someone grab her forearm. "Mar-" she began, thinking it was her brother, but quickly realized it was only a soldier after a moment. "You need to leave here now, Miss, if you value your life," he said urgently. "No!" Kitra wailed. "I must find my brother!" Two years later The sun was unbearably hot that day. Even the shade of the tent made very little difference that stifling afternoon. Kitra wondered how she had let herself get mixed up in this insanity. Establishing a Church of Light in Kalimdor? Impossible! Everyone knew it was dangerous for humans on this continent, with the exception of only a few places. Still, when Kitra had originally made the decision to work as a servant for the traveling clergy, it had seemed like a good idea at the time. It was chance to see new places, and at least she wouldn't have to worry about where her next meal would come from. But now she realized that this job was as dangerous as anything else. She had witnessed several skirmishes fought with the Horde over the past two years, and had seen many lives needlessly frittered away as well. Kitra despised this war, a war that, in her mind, was absolutely unnecessary. Is it really worth all of this? Kitra sat cross-legged on the floor of the tent she and Marris had been assigned to. She was staring blankly ahead, her thoughts shifting to the deepest recesses of her mind. An armored man suddenly entered the tent. Obviously startled, Kitra stared up at him, brushing one of her dark tresses away from her face. "Yes?" "I have something for your brother, lass," he said, glancing towards the young man sitting in the corner. "One of the clergy asked that I give it to him." "What is it?" Marris asked from the other side of the tent. The man handed a worn, leather-bound book to Marris who, in turn, carefully ran his fingers along the edges of the book's cover. After a few seemingly interminable seconds, the young man finally broke the silence by asking, "What kind of book is this, sir?" The man burst out laughing. "Why, lad, what is wrong with you? Can't you read the cover?" "No, he cannot," Kitra said flatly. "He is... blind." Color rose in the man's cheeks. "I'm terribly sorry..." "Do not apologize," said Marris. "I should have told you, and everyone else, sooner." Seeming to be at a loss for words, the man quickly withdrew from the tent. Several minutes of silence followed before Marris finally broke the ice. "Kitra, it is not a big deal. Just relax, please?" No response. "Kitra, what is the book about?" "Who cares?" Kitra said angrily. Marris sighed. "It is my sight, Kitra. So quit agonizing over it." "If I had gotten there sooner that night, then maybe you wouldn't have been injured," she said somberly. "What could you have possibly done?" he asked incredulously. "Do not forget that you are a woman. Not to mention you had little skill with a weapon." "All right," Kitra said at last. "Let me have the book." As she flipped through the book's many pages, Kitra began to realize the book contained the Church of Light's teachings. She finally looked up after a moment. "Marris, did you ask them for this?" The young man nodded. "Yes, I did. I was hoping you could read some of the passages to me. Someday I would like to follow the path of the Light myself." Oh great. "I will," she replied, trying her hardest to conceal her annoyance. "But there's something else I'd like to discuss with you first." Marris waited, patiently listening. After a few moments, Kitra finally spoke. "I'd like to head back to the Eastern Kingdoms soon. Maybe we can find work in one of the cities in the South, such as Stormwind." Marris looked more than a little surprised. "When would you like to do this?" Kitra shook her head in dismay. "It won't be immediately, that's a fact. But I intend to do it eventually." She then picked up the book her brother had handed her and began reading aloud... Kitra's Death After her younger brother, Marris, at the age of twenty-one, committed suicide, Kitra seemed to be handling it well enough to those around her; at least on the surface. But, in truth, she was only concealing her inner turmoil so as not to appear to be weak or mentally unstable. After all, there was nothing more demeaning to her than to be thought of as dependent or incompetent. The only clues she left behind before simply vanishing were statements such as "I know there must be a way to resurrect him" and "If I start searching now, maybe I can find a way to return to Marris to life within a few months". Unbeknownst to those around her, Kitra, out of desperation and the fact that she was too absorbed in her own little world to think rationally, foolishly began to delve into a world in which she did not belong, gathering books detailing the the foul practice of necromancy, hoping this would yield the information she so ardently desired. She would return Marris to the world of the living. Failure was not a word in her vocabulary. Only days after Marris' death, Kitra secretly embarked upon a journey that was doomed to end in tragedy from the start. She recalled once hearing a self-proclaimed necromancer by the name of Neyv state that the now Scourge-infested crypts beneath Caer Darrow housed a school -- a school of necromancy. If there was any truth in his words, she felt that she must seek out this school at any cost. And so it was decided: Kitra would journey there in order to obtain the knowledge she sought; the knowledge that she hoped could resurrect her fallen sibling. But Kitra was horribly unprepared -- both mentally and physically -- for the horrors which lay deep within the bowels of the ruined keep of Caer Darrow. It was far too late to turn back by the time she began to realize that she had suffered an egregious lapse in judgment when she decided to venture down into Scholomance. Knowing that she would not leave the crypts alive, Kitra, for the first time in many years, prayed to the Light for forgiveness for what she perceived to be a life wrought with mishaps and transgressions she had made. But, aside from the feelings of regret, she felt no fear or anger. In fact, she almost welcomed the imminent death because she desired to be reunited with her brother so badly -- and in the farthest reaches of her mind, she knew this was the only possible way that her wish would be granted... Category:Alliance category:Human category:Mage Category:Kitra